


Come Undone

by stickyrice



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, PWP, mythea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-09-30 21:26:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10172579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stickyrice/pseuds/stickyrice
Summary: He loves to unravel her in the best ways possible.





	1. Chapter 1

The room is dark; the only light illuminating the figures within was the sliver moonlight streaming in through the open windows. All is quiet except for the sounds of their mingled harsh breathing; a breathy satisfaction underscoring their exertion.

He props himself up on his forearm, the light sheet sliding further down his bare chest to pool at his waist. It settles at the base of her spine at the small of her back; exposing the smooth, bare skin of her back. He watches the moonlight wash over her skin, giving it a glowing, eternal quality. He glides the back of his hand down the curve of her back, softly, gently; he feels her shiver at his touch and cannot help but lean over her prone form to press a kiss between her shoulder blades.

She lets out a soft mewling sound, too spent to do much more. He cannot help the wicked grin that spreads across his lips at the knowledge that he was the one to reduce her to such a state.

Oh how he loved to unravel her; to make her come undone; to destroy her oh so proper, oh so professional, made-up look.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little BDSM-ish PWP

His eyes track her as she enters his office; her smart black blazer overtop a crisp white shirt tucked into a black pencil skirt; seamless stockings that make her legs go on forever, and a pair of smart Louboutin kitten heels to finish off the look, click across his office floor.

Her makeup is light and done in soft neutral tones that highlight and accentuate her natural beauty; it is understated in such a way that makes you look twice. Her eyes outlined in dark pencil bring out the natural dark tones of her eyes and make them gleam; her mascara making her lashes impossibly long and thick; and her lips glossy and full just beg for him to sink his teeth into.

She is the epitome of business professional; the way she dresses; the way she carries herself.

She is cool, calm, and collected; unwavering in the face of dignitaries, politicians, and a loaded gun. Explosions and flying bullets do no faze her; the threat of (nuclear) war makes her roll her eyes at the petty arguments of testosterone addled men with far too much power and not enough brains.

She is independent, self-sufficient, and strong. So it sends a dark thrill through him that he can reduce her to a whimpering mess; that he can make her come undone so spectacularly that she is begging him for release.

Oh yes, it is something that he take immense pleasure in, it is something that he loves; he loves destroying her professional, made-up look; breaking down her barriers and leaving her unraveled, raw and begging.

And oh, he’s done it in oh so many ways.

A wolfish gleam enters his eyes; his eyes track her, as a hunter tracks its prey. He shifts in his seat watching her; his eyes slowly, deliberately moving up and down her body. She can feel the heat of his gaze undressing her, and she bites down on her lip to suppress a shudder at his intensity.

She rounds the corner of his desk and stumbles slightly, distracted and slightly unfocused under the weight of his scrutiny; accidentally dropping some of the files that she had brought with her for his signature.

Her gaze snaps towards his and she holds his gaze. She sees the wolfish gleam in his eyes and the slight curve of his lips at the corner of his mouth, and she feels the heat that travels up her neck and infuses her cheeks. Her eyes wide and doe like, she can’t help but take an audible swallow, her mouth suddenly going dry.

He breaks the her stare momentarily to flick his eyes to the pile of paperwork that now lay scattered on the floor, and arches his brows expectantly. Her cheeks colour even further as she drops to her knees to collect the papers.  

She stops abruptly when she feels his hand slide through her hair. She tilts her back slightly and peers up at him through long lashes, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip. His hand cards through her hair again; moving his hand down her neck and along her jaw line, running the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip to free it from her teeth. Her lips part slightly and her tongue peeks out to swipe at his digit, tasting the slightly salty taste of his skin.

His eyes cloud over and his bright blues turn stormy and shuttered.

She wraps her lips around his thumb and sucks greedily; her tongue laving and swirling around the rough pad of his finger. She faintly hears him bite back a growl and the clink on metal as he unfastened his belt and trousers; she is so focused on her ministrations.

 With a gasp, her head is jerked back; his hand wrapped in her perfectly styled hair. She lets out a soft whimper in anticipation as his hand tightens further.

He peers down at her, his eyes narrowed; her breasts heave up and down with her rapid breathing, her pupils blown wide with desire, and her lips slightly parted and glistening. With a groan he forces her mouth onto his cock until her mascara smears and her lipstick is all over him. Her hands clench on his thighs, but she doesn’t pull away. He keeps up the relentless pace buried to the hilt; he can feel the wetness of her tears against his thighs, and the clenching and spasms of her throat as he forces her mouth onto his cock. As he feels the sting of her nails biting into his legs, he relents and slides from her mouth with a wet pop; there is a glossy pink ring around his cock and streaks along the inside of his thighs, her lipstick all over him. She rocks back onto her heels, staring up at him from between his splayed thighs; hair askew, her chest heaving, lips lush and slightly swollen, and dark streaks of mascara smeared around her eyes and down her cheeks.

Hauling her up by her arms, her back is to him as he presses into her from behind; her hands braced on his desk for leverage to push back into him. She can feel him grind damply into her through the thin material of her skirt.

With his foot, he nudges her legs apart, while one hand tails down her back and pushes her into the desk, bending her over, and the other reaching under her skirt to tear off her panties off.

Bending her over, he slides in to the hilt in one swift motion, forcibly reminding her that although she may be self-sufficient in many area, she will always be begging around him; begging for his fingers, for his cock, for his permission.


End file.
